If a significant number of people want a small insight into what depression is like, imagine waking up every morning with the feeling that you had after the news that David Bowie is dead had just sunk in. Imagine having that feeling every day even in a world where David Bowie is not dead.
David Bowie helped generations of us, from the 60s through to now and onwards, cut through that feeling and see the world a little brighter, even for a moment.
We were the children who felt spat on, and he seemed quite aware of what we were going through.
He taught us that we are all multifaceted, that these facets can be very different, but it is possible to show different sides of ourselves at different times while still being wholly and entirely ourselves.
He taught us experimentation is not only okay, but necessary.
He taught us that we don’t need to settle on one identity, because we will be confused and we will flounder and we will change, and this is all part of who we are and who we will become.
He took the principle of androgyny – of blurring lines between rigid definitions – and applied that to musical genres, to art, to living.
He showed us that even the revered will occasionally be criticised, but that doing those things which lead to criticism is better than doing nothing with that potential, those ideas.
Some of us are diehard fans who are still in shock because we couldn’t envision a world without him – even the manner of his death to us, being so suddenly there and then gone, is ethereal; more suited to his characters than himself. Some of us simply danced our hearts out when that song called for it. Some of us may never have listened to his music directly, but have heard it all through so many artists he inspired and enabled.
David Bowie brought colour to a grey world which will never be washed away. For as long as music is here, he will remain present.
Knowledge comes with death’s release.
We had the chance to meet you, and you blew our fucking minds.